Editors’ Note: We opened up this newspaper as a forum for student voices to express their feelings about the inauguration and the Women’s March. The views expressed in these reflections are the views of the individual authors and are not necessarily the views of the Law Weekly’s Executive or Editorial Board.

Michael Goudey '18

The Women’s March on Washington gave me an opportunity to stand up, acknowledge my privilege, and signal to my friends, family, and former co-workers who felt vulnerable that they were not alone. That despite feeling besieged by a wave of misogyny, jingoism, and intolerance, millions of men—straight and gay, cisgender and trans, black and white—stood with them in opposition to the hateful, anti-woman, anti-immigrant, and anti-LGBTQIA rhetoric the 2016 presidential campaign fueled.

I felt inspired to stand, packed like sardines, on Jefferson Ave and slowly march the 1.5 miles to the White House with millions of brilliant, passionate women proudly asserting and demanding respect for their humanity. I worried, though, that as the afterglow of the march wore off, so too would the energy of the hundreds of thousands who chanted, “Her body, her rights,” and “Immigrants are welcome here.”

I could not have been more wrong. Thousands of lawyers descended on airports this weekend to assist refugees, immigrants, and non-immigrant visitors from seven Muslim-majority nations navigate the President’s Executive Order on immigration. Closer to home, I know dozens of friends and family members who—for the first time in their lives—are contacting their elected representatives and urging them to stand-up for Progressive policies. Friends who had never considered entering politics are attending training sessions on civil activism and running for office. The Women’s March didn’t represent the apex of a movement organizing to oppose hateful policies. It was just the start.

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msqf4y@virginia.edu

Alana Harris '18Attending the Women’s March in New York City was a memorable and inspiring experience. I am not sure whether I was more touched by the little girls holding signs, emulating their strong moms and big sisters, or the older women who have dedicated their whole lives to fighting for equality for women, unwilling to let their decades of hard work go undone. The crowd was lively and energetic—I’ll certainly remember this experience forever.

---ah7db@virginia.edu

Madison Bush '17

The Women’s March on Washington will, without a doubt, remain one of the formative experiences of my life. I was moved and inspired to spend the day in our nation’s capital, surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people of many different genders, races, nationalities, and religions, all coming together to stand up for what we believe in. But what exactly is it that we all believe in? It is this uncertainty that is both a strength and a weakness of the Women’s March movement.

Early on, the March was criticized for a lack of intersectionality, prioritizing White Feminism over equality for all. In response, the organizers reached out to a slew of leaders from diverse backgrounds, emphasizing diversity moving forward. This inclusivity became a key message of the movement, one that desperately needed to be addressed, especially in light of statistics showing a majority of white women voted for Trump, a sad truth which I can only continue to apologize for.

Diversity is absolutely crucial if feminism is to succeed in America. At the same time, achieving ethnic and religious diversity in the movement should not mean that there is no shared goal. At the March itself, cheers including, “We want a leader, not a creepy tweeter,” clashed with others such as, “Fired up! Ready to go!” All too often, the marchers lapsed into silence, unsure of which message to carry forward. I worry that the leaderships’ choice to let the marchers choose the message may be the movement’s greatest weakness in the long run.

At the March, I worried what would come after. I worried that, much like the Occupy Wall Street movement, there would be nothing tangible to show for our efforts. The “10 Actions, 100 Days” initiative assuaged my fears, promising continued actions in the coming months. I jumped right into the First Action: writing postcards, happily scribbling away to urge all of my representatives to defend the Affordable Care Act and the environment. I also considered writing about protecting a woman’s right to choose, protecting marriage equality, opposing the wall, etc. etc. It didn’t take me long to realize that the “10 Actions, 100 Days” plan may face many of the same issues as the March itself. Writing postcards certainly garners involvement, but without a clear message of what the movement wants to achieve, will a real chance for change get lost in the muddle of myriad mixed messages?

There is a bigger, overarching problem, one that I fear the Women’s March will be unable to solve—the Donald himself. The basic presumption of democracy is that the president is a representative of the people. But what happens when the person elected by the unpopular vote is an unpredictable egomaniac who was inaugurated without having turned over his tax returns, divest from his business investments, or having relinquished his personal cellphone? Will that man change his mind about anything when three to four million Americans march in protest nationwide? If the first ten days have shown us anything—apparently not. The Donald is not willing to listen to the people, and that should scare us all.

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mcb4za@virginia.edu

Lauren Sandground '18

When the Women’s March on Washington became a coherent event in late 2016, I had serious hesitations about whether to attend.

Despite holding strong beliefs in particular about women’s issues, I had never participated in a march before, and never had the desire to. Honestly, I have always questioned the efficacy of marching. I thought that participating in a march would be a romantic way to live out one’s freedom of expression, out in the polis. Yet, as a law school-bred consequentialist, I questioned whether marches resulted in something tangible. I wanted my efforts to be worthwhile. Why should I bother?

Prior to this march, I had several conversations with fellow UVa students about my musings on marching. Two thoughts stuck with me from these conversations, and they ultimately motivated me: One, marches build movements, and two, marching is a vital tool in the toolbox of a people-driven democracy. Without people committed to marching, the Tea Party would not have been formed, nor would MLK’s “I Have a Dream” speech have resonated across the country. Arguably, neither would have had such an impact on American politics. Without marching, people with less privilege (political privilege, which compounds further with identity privilege) would be limited in their means of voicing their concerns and participating in democracy.

If marches are worthwhile generally, was it worth it for me? What was at stake that would shake me out of my bed at 5am to drive 2.5 hours up Route 29 in the (mild) Virginia winter? This part came more easily. Women have made significant progress in gaining civil, political, social, and economic rights and protections in America over the past two centuries. These guarantees are not rigorously maintained, especially along intersectional lines, and cultural misogyny has become normalized. I wanted to march to remind myself that I should speak and act where and when it is necessary for me to do so to uphold these rights. As one famous scholar and feminist, Audre Lorde, said, “I have come to believe over and over again that what is most important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood.”

Even at the risk of being misunderstood, I marched. On January 22, I drove up Route 29 with eight other law students and friends. I shuffled at 0.5 miles per hour with 500,000 people from different backgrounds. In the heart of the nation’s capitol, I saw a movement forming. I was part of it.

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las3mc@virginia.edu

Kendall Burchard '19

I have struggled to unpack the complex feelings and reactions I have had to the Women’s March on Washington. I do not claim to speak for all the women involved, nor do I claim to speak for even a small number of those who marched. The reasons millions of men, women, and children left their homes and flooded the streets of cities across the world were as varied and diverse as the individuals themselves. And yet, we marched in solidarity, drawn together by the simple, unwavering belief in the immense power of physical presence to convey what individual actions and solitary voices fail to do adequately. Simply put, I marched against fear. I marched against the fear that my potential will be undercut by my sex. I marched against “alternative facts” and the blatant disregard of truth, humanity, and equality. I marched to show that the actions of the Trump administration would not define me as an American, and I marched to show I would not allow unconstitutional bans and inhumane policies to be enacted without a fight. I marched for my friends concerned for the safety of their families, those fighting to protect their bodily autonomy, and those fearful their right to marry the person they love is now in jeopardy. I marched to show that I refuse to accept the violent attacks that have plagued our schools and public spaces as the “new normal,” and I refuse to blame an entire religion for the actions of few. Although I am deeply concerned about the policies and proposals the President has offered this past week, the March and subsequent displays of patriotism and unity this weekend have remind me of the common individual’s ability to make a difference, to fight against oppression, and to hold the powerful accountable for their actions and rights violations. While our country’s principles and priorities appear to be shifting at times, watching hundreds of thousands of people flood the streets of Washington and cities around the world reminded us all of America’s resilience and fight.

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ktb4xe@virginia.edu

Tess Fardon '18

I feel very lucky to have been able to participate in the Women’s March on Washington. The March itself was empowering – it was great to see so many people coming together for women’s rights, standing up for each other, seeing family members marching for the women in their families who were unable to – but the best part, to me, was the walk down to the National Mall, where the March took place. My friends and I walked three miles from Columbia Heights to the Mall. People were dancing the entire way down, and strangers were smiling at each other and hugging one another. Cars drove by with the passengers honking and cheering. It felt like we were all part of this giant picture, this historic moment, that anything was possible, and we were thrilled to share the moment with so many others. Feeling this intense bond with so many strangers, and seeing that such an overwhelming number of people are passionate about equality, was a nice reminder that we are not alone. I think the best thing that can come out of this election is finding solidarity with others who share your beliefs. The he comfort that comes from that solidarity was what the March brought out for me.

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tmf5tb@virginia.edu

Sarah Ingles '19

I’ve heard some criticism about the lack of a “unified message” from the Women’s March, but I think the diversity in messages was its greatest strength. Intersectional feminism is a concept to which people are still adjusting. It’s not a lack of unification, but rather an acknowledgment that my concerns as a straight white woman don’t encompass the entire spectrum of feminist issues. The real impact of marches lies in their aftermath, and attending the Women’s March plugged me into a number of networks that will help me stay politically active and informed. Had the march been limited to a single issue, I may not have even heard about so many great organizations promoting the rights of different groups.

Campbell Haynes '19

The Women’s March left me feeling inspired, activated, energized, and optimistic. It gave both of my grandmothers hope that a movement led by women can change this country. It is something that I will tell my own grandchildren about one day. Now, I pray that the activism of the Women’s March will turn into tomorrow’s direct political action. Judging by this weekend, it may already have.

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wch4xs@virginia.edu

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On my way into D.C. for the Women’s March, I knew my day would be unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I’m a big crier—I cry at everything—and, looking around at the beaming faces on the metro, so excited and anxious about the day to come, I was moved to tears. There were dads with their daughters, college students, 80+ year old women enthusiastically explaining how they had knit their “pussy hats” at a party they threw in their hometown in Idaho. There were no strangers on that metro; it was unspoken that we were all friends, all in this together, all here for each other. That positive spirit carried through out the entire day. Even when we were packed like sardines, over 500,000 people crammed into just a few streets, everyone around me had a smile on their face.

Many people don’t realize that the march was actually cancelled; when so many people showed up to the rally, the organizers were forced to cancel the march. But it would’ve been impossible to hold back a crowd of that size and with that much passion. After about four hours of standing, we flooded into the streets and ended up in front of the White House. For many, it was an act of defiance. For others, a place for catharsis. But, for most, it was both, and so much more. It was a sign of hope that we desperately needed and it opened up a dialogue about the future of a more intersectional, inclusive, action-oriented feminism that was long overdue. In that regard, the Women’s March may have been a one day event, but its effects will be felt for years to come. I will be forever proud and forever grateful to have participated.

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sci3ub@virginia.edu

Elizabeth Sines '19

On my way into D.C. for the Women’s March, I knew my day would be unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I’m a big crier—I cry at everything—and, looking around at the beaming faces on the metro, so excited and anxious about the day to come, I was moved to tears. There were dads with their daughters, college students, 80+ year old women enthusiastically explaining how they had knit their “pussy hats” at a party they threw in their hometown in Idaho. There were no strangers on that metro; it was unspoken that we were all friends, all in this together, all here for each other. That positive spirit carried through out the entire day. Even when we were packed like sardines, over 500,000 people crammed into just a few streets, everyone around me had a smile on their face.

Many people don’t realize that the march was actually cancelled; when so many people showed up to the rally, the organizers were forced to cancel the march. But it would’ve been impossible to hold back a crowd of that size and with that much passion. After about four hours of standing, we flooded into the streets and ended up in front of the White House. For many, it was an act of defiance. For others, a place for catharsis. But, for most, it was both, and so much more. It was a sign of hope that we desperately needed and it opened up a dialogue about the future of a more intersectional, inclusive, action-oriented feminism that was long overdue. In that regard, the Women’s March may have been a one day event, but its effects will be felt for years to come. I will be forever proud and forever grateful to have participated.